The Bow and the Bell
by marylou
Summary: The first time that Clint Barton met Phil Coulson, he recognized him.


The first time that William Clinton Barton met Philip Christopher Coulson, he was standing outside his house in the snow, watching a train go by. It was his eighth Christmas, and things couldn't be less like Christmas at his house. His father had walked out on them a year earlier, and his mother was struggling to support him and his brothers. He knew that she was having trouble getting enough money for food, so there was no way they would be able to afford Christmas presents that year.

So when he was woken up by a train that magically appeared in front of his house and was told that it would take him to the North Pole to see Santa, he didn't believe them. It was only when he saw another boy in the window waving at him that he decided to take the chance. Despite his young age, he knew that there was little hope for him. He would grow up and become just like his parents; living paycheck to paycheck, earning a meager salary while dodging responsibilities like his father had before him. So he took the chance.

At first, his experience with the Polar Express had encouraged him to believe in Santa Claus, and others things like him, but when the next year rolled around and they were evicted from their house a few days before Christmas and there was nothing for them under the Christmas tree because they didn't have one, he decided that it had all been a dream. There was no use in waiting for someone to come and help him; it was all up to him.

And that was when he ran away from the shelter they had been living in.

* * *

The second time that Clint Barton met Phil Coulson, an agent from a super-secret spy agency was trying to convince him to join. Clint could see another man standing behind, almost out of sight. He looked familiar. It was only after Clint had accepted the job offer that he recognized him. After signing all of his paper work, he walked over to him, holding out his hand in greeting. The other man raised an eyebrow at him, but shook it. "So, can you still hear it?" Clint asked quietly, with a small smirk.

"Hear it?" the man repeated.

"The bell."

"The- how did you- Billy?" Clint got the impression that this was the first time the other had been surprised in a long while.

"It's Clint now."

"Clint. What are you doing here?"

Clint laughed and turned to leave when he heard the other answer his previous question.

"Yes." Clint turned around. "What?"

"Yes, I can still hear it. Could you, if I had it here?"

Clint shook his head ruefully. "I doubt it."

After that, they never talked about their shared past.

* * *

The last time Clint saw Phil, he didn't even remember it. And after all of the chaos had died down and Loki had been defeated and sent back to his daddy, Clint decided that he wanted to be the one to give Phil's wife the news. And as he stood in front of the open front door of the deceptively normal house, for the second time in his life he was surprised by a figure from his past. Her. The girl from the train. She had changed a bit; older, a bit of gray in her hair, but she was still recognizable. He had never learned her name, had never asked Phil what had happened to her, but it was definitely her. He wondered how they had met again.

"Billy?" she asked, surprised. For a moment he was surprised that she had been able to recognize him, but then again, the things that they had experienced together were rather memorable.

He nodded. "It's Clint now," he responded, his voice rough. "Phil never told you?"

She shook her head. "Do you work with him?"

He cleared this throat awkwardly. "I did."

She frowned, her brow furrowed. "Did? Did you leave? Or-" She trailed off as she saw the expression on his face. "Phil?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, putting his hands in his jean pockets. "I- I'm sorry," he said softly. "He was a good man."

She nodded. "Yes." A flash of some unrecognizable emotion flashed across her face as she remembered something. "He left something for you. Asked me to give it to someone named 'Clint' if anything ever happened to him. It's always confused me, but now I think I understand." She turned away from the door, disappearing into another room. Behind her, Clint shuffled uncertainly on the doorstep.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed, holding out a small box to him. Clint accepted it, stuffing it into his pocket. He'd open it later, when he was alone. "The funeral's on Saturday," he said. "Hill said she'd get in touch with you."

She nodded. "Thank you for bringing me the news, Billy."

"Clint," he corrected again.

She nodded again. "Clint. Thank you."

He nodded in farewell and turned to leave as she turned back into the house to grieve alone.

Later that day when he was alone, Clint opened the box. Inside was a small bell, still with the piece of red ribbon attached.


End file.
